Chapter 3
DISCLAIMER - None of these delightful characters are mine, all belong to JK Rowling.
Luna's first morning in the home of the stern Professor Snape began with a little ritual she and her father had devised at their cottage many years ago. She was up at first light and, taking a handful of bottle caps from her carpet bag, she looked about for some of the sylvan thread her father kept at home. She could not find any so, Luna improvised and pulled a long stretch of red ribbon she kept for her hair. On this, she threaded the bottle caps and set to work.
Ten minutes later and she was satisfied that her efforts were complete. And so to breakfast. Professor Snape was no where in sight and so, Luna thought he was still asleep and would appreciate having a meal ready for him when he got up for work.
It was not easy to find her way around his kitchen, for one thing it was much smaller than the one at home and for another, Luna barely recognised much of what she found in the cupboards. She and her father usually had blackberry tea and maple strips but she could nothing resembling either in the Professor' neatly appointed kitchen.
Neither could she locate anything that looked like duck's eggs and so, Luna had to make do with the brown eggs that were in the fridge. They were much smaller than the lovely blue duck's eggs her father kept their fridge stocked with at home.
Nevertheless, Luna set to scrambling the ones from the fridge and confused by the difference in size, was unsure how many would yield the same portions. Then she realised that she did not know how big her host's appetite was and so, she chose to err on the side of generosity and used most of the dozen eggs from the box.
She was setting two plates on the table when a roar made her jump and she dropped the cutlery with a clang.
"What is the meaning of this?"
The snarling yell reverberated along the corridor, accompanied by the discordant tingling of metal being roughly shaken. Then, Professor Snape was stalking into the dining room as though propelled by gale force winds.
Luna was kneeling to retrieve the fallen cutlery when he entered and she looked up and could hardly see his face, which seemed very far away. Mostly all Luna saw was a flurry of coal black.
He stooped down, gripped her arm and hauled her upwards with such force, Luna was actually lifted off her feet.
"What did I tell you about making a mess?" Snape bent so low, his nose was almost touching hers.
Luna looked up into eyes that flamed with annoyance and thought hard about what might have sparked it.
"You said you wouldn't be cleaning up after me," Luna supplied, sounding not at all disturbed by his less than cheery morning greeting.
"Correct. And yet day one and here I am, cleaning up this rattling contraption that I assume is your handiwork!" he ground out, lifting his hand which has fisted around a red ribbon dotted with the bottle caps.
"Oh, I see what you mean," Luna responded, reaching out to take back the ribbon. She had to practically prise it from his hand.
"It's a fry tack. It's not quite as good as one made with spider web thread but it is a fair substitute," she said.
"You are not to leave your toys thrown about here willy nilly. I thought I was clear about that. And yet, here was that thing stretched across the floor where it almost knocked me down!," Snape's irritation did not dim.
"It's not a toy. It's to keep the loytroops at bay. We find them very useful," Luna supplied helpfully but if anything, Snape's expression darkened yet further.
He reached out a long fingered hand, snatched the fry tack from her, and his wand was suddenly in his other hand. With a vicious little pop, the home made implement vanished.
"Well I do not!" he snapped.
It was only then that Snape took in the scene in his dining room. The table was partially set for a meal, mismatched cups sat on saucers, two plates were set opposite each other and between them, a bowl containing what looked like a mountain of some sort of yellow lumps.
He squinted, then glanced back at the girl. She was holding two knives, two forks and she was looking at him, that strange half smile on her face, looking like she had just invented the magic wand.
"What is going on?" he asked in a quieter tone though he was starting to suspect. By way of confirmation, he leaned a little closer to the steaming mound on the middle of the table, sniffed and realised it wasn't a heap of lumps, it was a gigantic pile of scrambled eggs,
"Breakfast, of course," Luna supplied and resumed setting the table.
"Breakfast is not served…." the reprimand was halfway out of his mouth before Snape thought to silence it.
The girl would not know that he ate breakfast in the Great Hall with the other staff. And she would not be able to join him there, she was not yet a student at this school.
She looked up at him, vaguely curious.
"Breakfast is not served without toast. Why don't you finish what you are doing and I will see to it," he said instead and frowned when he looked again at the eggs. Had she used every one?
"Thank you, Professor," Luna said.
Snape pursed his lips. The girl was nothing if not polite. Her manners were almost flawless. With the noted exception of her fondness for the eccentric. Well, there would be no cluttering up his home with fry tacks or star crests or any other nonsense her father had filled her head with for far too long.
Snape summoned a house elf to fetch the toast, sat with thinly veiled impatience as Luna engaged the creature in a protracted discussion about the medicinal effects of sugar lumps for non human magical folk.
Five minutes in and the little elf was gazing at her as though she was commanding the universe to spin on its axis. She had not been here for long enough to complete one meal and she had disrupted his orderly routine and home almost beyond recognising.
When she and the elf embarked on an inventory of elvish folk songs, he could stand it no more.
"That will do," he dismissed the elf peremptorily and as the little creature vanished with a faint pop, he regarded the girl, his expression schooled and cold.
"Have you finished eating?" he asked.
"Oh yes. Thank you," she replied and made to stand.
"Sit down. I want to ask you about a few things," his words were not issued as an invitation.
She lowered herself back into her chair and waited for him to begin. There was something about her calmness, her resignation that unnerved Snape. She was a young girl. Shouldn't there be hysterics and fluctuations of mood? Tears and pouting? So far, she had shown not one hint of any emotion apart from a disconcerting acceptance of her Fate.
His face showed none of his confusion. He set his dark gaze upon her,
"But first, I think there is something we need to get out of the way," he began.
"Yes. I don't know how to address you And I don't think you know what to call me. It is a little awkward," she met his eyes steadily.
Again he was discomfited. Why couldn't she talk like other children her age, for crying out loud?
"You will address me as Professor or Sir. Outside of my private quarters or my house, where we will spend the summer when term ends in a few days. At home, you may address me by my first name. Severus," he said.
"I am too young to really be called Miss Lovegood. So far you haven't called me anything much. Luna will be fine," she said in return.
He rose a brow at this formal exchange.
"Which is not surprising as it is afterall, your name."
His sarcasm clearly didn't ruffle her.
"Yes," she said as though they had settled something of great import. Snape frowned again. Cleared his throat. Time to get this conversation back on track.
"Your father. What do you know of what happened to him?" The Potions Master asked.
His directness did not seem to catch her off guard but at the mention of her father, Snape saw her eyes cloud, not with tears but with sadness.
"He just disappeared. I went to bed and he was there, working on a new article for the Quibbler, the next morning, he was gone. But the chain he always wore, with the Deathly Hallows, that was lying on the floor beside his chair. That's how I knew something was wrong. He would not have left without it. Or me," she said.
"And he didn't mention any reason he might have had to go away at all?"
"No."
"Has he ever done this before?" Snape went on.
"Never."
"Luna, do you think he had trouble of any kind? Was there anything unusual about .. Things before he went away?" Even to his own ears, Snape's question sounded daft. Everything about Zenophillus Lovegood was unusual. How could she possibly tell the difference?
"No. Nothing," she sounded absolute, definite.
"I told you, Severus. He would not leave without me."
What he did not know was if she believed this because it was true or if it was the confidence of a child who could not accept she had been abandoned by a shiftless parent.
"The Quibbler article he was working on, what was it about?" he asked almost as an after thought. He was already halfway to his feet.
"How daisy petals could make much better flight propellers than willow twigs in new brooms. It was a very powerful piece, could have really rocked the wizarding world but he was gone before we published it."
Her answer brought his lips up in a disdainful sneer. So investigative journalism had not led him to rattle the wrong cages.
"Severus. Can you find him?"
He had turned away but her question brought him up short. He turned slowly, regarded the girl who was sitting perfectly still. She was looking up at him with such an expression of open hope that he felt his own breath catch.
"I can promise you that Professor Dumbledore and myself will do all that we can, Luna."
She looked into his deep, black eyes. Saw no sympathy for her plight there. No pity or the condescension that many adults fell into when conversing with children.
It was the look he would have given an equal and Luna heard his answer, noted the absence of an empty promise and felt enormously consoled by that. She knew something bad had happened to her dad, she just knew it. And grown ups patting her on the head and telling her everything would be fine could not reassure her otherwise.
This man promising to do something about it, well that made her feel a whole lot better.
"Thank you, Severus,"
Again those almost old fashioned manners and genteel speech.
"You are welcome, child," he sighed.
He left to get ready for the day ahead. Exams were almost over, parchments were piling up for him to read and grade.
But he figured this soft spoken, scrap of a girl was going to present him with far more work.
The quiet ones could always be relied upon to test every reserve you ever had.